


Can You Feel The Love Tonight

by BunniesAndBooks



Series: Klaine's Valentines [13]
Category: Glee
Genre: Civil War!Klaine, Klaine, Klaine fanfiction, M/M, Southerner!Kurt, Yankee!Blaine, klainevalentines2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 05:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5992606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunniesAndBooks/pseuds/BunniesAndBooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is shot, and when he wakes up it’s to the sight of the man he believes to be responsible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can You Feel The Love Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I was kind of inspired by the particular line of restless warrior, and this is what came out of it…

“Whoe, easy,” were the first words Kurt heard when he regained consciousness, so when strong hands gently pushed him back down on the bed Kurt didn’t fight it.

He had no idea what was going on, and he did not like it.

“Where am I?” Kurt croaked, his body heavy and his head throbbing in sharp pain. He didn’t dare open his eyes, knowing it would add fuel to the fire in his head. Instead he focused on his breathing; in, out, in, out – long breaths that managed to calm him ever so slightly.

For a long moment the room was quiet, before a soft voice spoke, a nervous quality in his voice, “Umm, okay, so it’s not what it looks like.”

Eyes flying open Kurt pressed the heel of his hand against his temple, and hissed through the ache roaring through his skull - but his eyes remained open, trained on the figure sitting beside the simple bed.

“ _You_ ,” Kurt said in disdain, recalling the last time he’d seen that man…

*

_Oh, why couldn’t he have been allowed to stay back home? Kurt wondered as he stalked through the woods, rifle held in his tired hands and his worn muffler curled snugly around his neck. Not only was the winter terribly cold, not only was food hardly ever more than stale bread, but the war raging trough the land was wholly unneeded in Kurt’s opinion._

_Couldn’t people ever solve their issues through conversation instead of battle?_

_The worst thing however was the fact that Kurt had lost track of his companions, and was now all alone in the woods, with no idea on how to get back to camp._

_Stupid Neanderthals, Kurt thought as he envisioned the men in his group, they left me on purpose, surely._

_That was when he’d seen movement not far up ahead, and for a moment his mind had blanked, before he’d quickly raised his gun, and pointed it at the thing before him. The only thing was, the man standing there, a Yankee going by his colors – was also holding a rifle, a rifle aimed pointedly at Kurt._

_Gulping, Kurt prepared himself to shoot, only, he was rather reluctant to actually fire. Despite having been part of his army for close to two full years now, ever since becoming old enough to join in, he had yet to actually kill someone, and he wasn’t particularly keen to change that. He knew there was no coming back from that kind of happenings he knew; it would leave a mark in him forever._

_But the man up ahead didn’t pull his trigger either, instead raising his head to look at Kurt. Following the movement, Kurt hesitantly looked up, eyes fixated on the dark ones looking back. How was he ever supposed to kill this man? Kurt questioned himself as he looked at the dirty, yet handsome man before him. How could he ever take something as beautiful as him away from this world?_

_It was like time stood still as they looked at each other, but Kurt knew they’d been like that long enough when his arms began to protest against him holding the rifle up like he was, his muscles straining against dropping the heavy arms in his hold. Blinking, Kurt thought about maybe, just maybe, possibly, lowering his gun, but before he had the opportunity-_

*

“You shot me!” he croaked out as loudly as he could, looking at the Yankee boy before him. Eyes widening in terror, Kurt scrambled himself back away from the man, ignoring the screaming throb in his head as well as the pain bursting out from his middle, his sole focus on the man that had tried to kill him.

“That- that wasn’t actually me,” the man spoke calmly, his hands raised in the air on either side of his head, trying to reassure Kurt that he was not out to harm him. “A friend of mine thought you were going to shoot _me_ , since you’re, well, a southerner and all. He just didn’t want me harmed.”

“It really isn’t that much better that one of your _friends_ shot me,” Kurt bit out, clenching his teeth together.

“I know,” the man said apologetically. “And I’m sorry about that, I really am. There isn’t much I can do about that now though. What I can do however – if you’ll let me – is to tuck you back down into bed before you rip open that wound in your side again. You’ve lost enough blood as it is, and judging on how you look as pale as a ghost I doubt you can afford to lose anymore.”

“I’m always pale as a ghost,” Kurt mumbled deprecatingly, but nodded his head once.

He really was tired after all, and if the man had kept him alive this long, what’s to say he’ll kill Kurt during a short nap?

*

What Kurt had found out during his next few conversations with the Yankee – Blaine – was how Kurt had fainted after being shot in the side, and had sequentially hit his head on a log when he fell to the ground. He’d been told about how Blaine had taken him back here, to a small wooden cabin not far from where they’d encountered one another, and how Blaine and his friend had stitched him back together – once Blaine had explained to his friend about what had _really_ happened that was.

He’d been told that he’d been unconscious for three days before finally waking up, and how Blaine’s friend had left on day two. He’d been told about the progress of the war, and how the rumor had it that the ending was finally near.

Kurt knew his side would lose. He’d known for months, when he’d first seen a soldier die from sheer starvation. They never went too long without food up north, the tales would have it. It had seemed folly to believe that the war would have any other outcome when hearing such rumors.

Without much to do in their cabin, Kurt had gotten to know Blaine as his wounds slowly healed, and had in turn told him about the life he had back home.

“But slavery is wrong, Kurt!” Blaine had shouted at him when he’d told the man about his maid and best friend Mercedes.

“Not all of us are heartless you know!” Kurt had countered, and had proceeded to tell Blaine about how his father had bought a husband and wife to take care of their house and their lands. He told him about how they were given a room in their house, and how they were given food. He told him about the sizeable piece of land his father had given to Mr. Jones, to use however he wanted to bring in some extra coins for his family’s personal use once they’d conceived a child. How his father didn’t need to drive them dead when he was already making enough money on his own by repairing automobiles and bicycles.

And Blaine had apologized, though he made it clear that he still believed that slavery was wrong, despite how good Kurt’s family was to theirs.

*

News reached them after a month of solitude in their cabin when Kurt had almost healed enough to return to his own people, news of how the southerners had surrendered, and how they could all finally go home.

The news had chocked Kurt. Home? But… but what about Blaine? How could he ever leave Blaine behind?

He loved him, Kurt realized with a start, his eyes widening at the revelation. Oh god, he _loved_ him.

And he couldn’t even revel in it, couldn’t enjoy it, because the thought of needing to leave the man he’d grown to know, to- to love… it was unbearable.

“Blaine?” Kurt said, gesturing for the man to sit down beside him on the bed. “Could you sit down a moment?”

“What is it, Kurt?” Blaine wondered, taking hold of his hands and squeezing them comfortingly.

“I- I have to tell you something,” Kurt said, biting his bottom lip nervously. It wasn’t like he could just _leave_ without telling the man of his feelings. Without knowing what could have been. If Blaine didn’t return his feelings, even if he would end up hating Kurt for _his_ , it would be better to just… know.

“Anything,” Blaine swore, smiling calmly at Kurt, and Kurt couldn’t help but smiling back.

“I- you know how we can go home now?” Kurt asked, not knowing how to express himself.

“Oh,” Blaine sighed, his head falling as he looked down at their hands. “I’m- aware of that, yes.”

“I- I kind of… Would you come with me?” Kurt finally spurted out, his eyes clenching shut so he wouldn’t have to see Blaine’s reaction.

“What…” Blaine muttered, an uncommon silence falling between them. Kurt finally opened his eyes when a hand stroked across his cheek, Blaine looking at him with the most heartbreakingly tentative look on his face. “Do you really mean it?”

Gulping, Kurt nodded. “Yes,” he whispered.

The hand on his cheek stilled, and Kurt just knew that this was it, that Blaine would leave him, would hate him now. Nothing of the sort ever came, instead Blaine cupped his jaw, and looking deep into his eyes slowly leant forward.

Gasping when their lips connected, Kurt couldn’t understand what was happening, was Blaine really? Just when he’d begun returning the sweet kiss, Blaine pulled back, twin smiles stretching out across their lips as they looked down at the bed between them.

“Was that a yes?” Kurt daringly questioned, nibbling his lip again, not quite believing that just moments ago they’d been kissed. By Blaine of all people.

Blaine looked up at him, adoration shining clearly in his eyes. “Yes.”


End file.
